


Traditions

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Don't Judge Me, Fluff, M/M, Roadrat Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: Roadhog introduces Junkrat to old-world traditions all the time.  Now that they're a part of Overwatch, Roadhog can give Junkrat a taste of how Christmas used to be, and maybe draw Mako up from where he's been stuck for so many years.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skepsiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skepsiss/gifts).



> Pinch hit Secret Santa fic for skepsiss on tumblr. Hope you had a good Christmas :)

Roadhog hadn't celebrated Christmas in  _ at least _ a decade before he met Junkrat.  The poor fool had thought it was all about food and booze and, while it was, he has thought that that was  _ it. _ That year, they had made their first Christmas tree out of tires and exchanged presents.  

 

Junkrat had given Roadhog his first button, a bright white and red bauble that he had found of a ham hock with a slash through it.  When Roadhog had asked what he was supposed to do with it, Junkrat had gotten right up close to him and pinned it right to his vest.  Told him he needed some color.  

 

The tradition kind of just started sticking.  On the hottest day of the year, they would declare it was Christmas or, when they were closer to civilization, they would catch the date on the tellie or a newspaper.  It was a signal to lay low for a day or two; take it easy, exchange presents.  

 

This year was totally different. Their first year with Overwatch.

 

This year, taking it easy didn’t mean stealing a catering truck, it meant ordering chinese food to their apartment door and stuffing themselves while they watched happy movies about people who couldn’t bond with their families except for one day a year.  It meant having electricity to waste on heat because it was too fucking cold in the northern hemisphere, and going out together to buy a real, honest to God tree. Which, of course, Junkrat set on fire, and now they had a dead husk in the corner of the room, decorated with shiny bits and bobs and a few bombs small enough for the brittle branches to support.

 

This year, Roadhog slipped away the closer Christmas got and Mako Rutledge settled back into place for the first time in nearly twenty years.  

 

It started with little things, like humming carols and saying more than a few words to Junkrat at a time.  Sitting on the couch together became less of a squeeze and more of a nestle, and as Chrismas became only a few days away, he started to worry about what he was going to get Junkrat as a present.  Started to  _ care _ .

 

All the other years of having Christmas with Junkrat had been nice, sure, but they hadn't made him  _ feel _ before.  Not like this.  There was a line between diverting and  _ happy _ and Roadhog could feel himself slipping.  He didn't know whether to hold on or let go.

 

Two days before Christmas, he let go.  He hadn't touched knitting needles in years, but the day before Chrismas Eve, he locked Junkrat out of the bedroom and started and restarted a scarf, a hat and a pair of mittens.  Ambitious, daunting, time consuming and mistake ridden, Roadhog only had an oversized, lumpy scarf, half of a frustrated hat and a single mitten finished by the time Christmas morning ticked in.  Junkrat was squeezing his fingers under the door, trying to get Roadhog to pay him some attention, apologizing for things he either hadn’t done yet or thought he might have done and forgotten about.

 

Roadhog hadn’t realized how much time they had been spending together until they were apart. The fact that he wanted to  _ hang out _ with anyone at all was pretty staggering to him, but he and Junkrat hadn’t actually been apart in several years and the realization makes him smile and move from the bed to the floor next to the door. 

 

He puts the end of the finished scarf on Junkrat’s fingers.  The stubby, scarred fingers curl up through the knit and he begins pulling it out beneath the door.  Roadhog feeds it out carefully, smiling a little as Junkrat speeds up with his mounting confusion.  He can just imagine the look on his face and lets out a rumbling chuckle as the last of the scarf leaves the door.

 

“What the fuck?” Junkrat asks and Roadhog hears his peg thump against the door.  “Get out here, you twat.”

 

Roadhog snorts and leaves the half-finished hat on the bed, just taking the mitten and finally opening the door to offer it to Junkrat.  “Merry Christmas,” he tells him, dropping his eyes when he sees the brilliant grin on Junkrat’s face, framed by the scarf that he had already wrapped around his neck and shoulders.  

 

“Christmas,” Junkrat replies, slipping the mitten on his flesh hand and looking overjoyed with it and the scarf.

 

“Only got to finish one,” Roadhog says, wishing he had put his mask back on.  This was a real gift, not just some bauble he had picked up when ransacking a store or something. 

 

Junkrat’s head snaps up from petting the scarf with his mittened hand and he lets out a snorting cackle that he looks like he’s trying to stiffle.  “Hopefully me metal fingers won’t freeze off,” he jokes.

Roadhog laughs at that, a rough, deep laugh that makes Junkrat cackle freely and jump on him, slinging his arms around Roadhog’s neck in an enthusiastic hug.  

 

“I love ‘em,” Junkrat says as Roadhog wraps an arm around his waist.  Junkrat stiffens and Roadhog wonders if hugging back was too unexpected, but then Junkrat’s springing off of him and ducking under his arm to scoop up the half-done hat on the bed.  “It’s a set!”  He says, looking awestruck and thrilled as he pulls the unfinished hat onto his wild hair.

 

Roadhog laughs and rubs the back of his neck.  “Yeah,” he agrees, not bothering to tell him it wasn’t finished.  “It’s a set.”

 

Junkrat sits on the bed and plays with the weave of the scarf though the mitten.  The look on his face is pure delight and he just looks so taken with the shoddily made pieces that Roadhog can't help but feel proud of his work.

 

“They’re cozy, mate.  I love ‘em!” Junkrat assures him, bouncing up off of the bed and over to the dresser.  He opens his drawer and throws his shorts aside to reveal a red and green abomination of a scrap gun that puts a massive grin on Roadhog’s face.

 

“I tried wrapping it,” Junkrat explains, unable to properly hold the massive gun and instead wrapping his arms around it to tote it over. “It uh… didn't work out,” he says with a soft chuckle.

 

“I remember,” Roadhog says with a smirk.  He had come home to the door bolted and blocked with chairs.  When Junkrat had finally opened the door, there was wrapping paper and tape all over the floor and Junkrat himself.  “It’s an awkward shape.  Next time get a box,” he suggests.

 

Junkrat giggles and nods.  “Sure, mate.”  He takes a moment to watch Roadhog check the gun, then clears his throat and sidles up to nudge his side.  “Remind me to use a box next year, yeah?”  He asks.

 

“Sure thing, boss,” Roadhog chuckles and holds the massive gun easily in one hand to ruffle Junkrat’s hatted head.  “Think they’re rerunning that one movie with the dumb kids all day on 2306,” he suggests.

 

“Let’s fucking get out there, then, shit!”  Junkrat grins and runs out into the livingroom.

 

Roadhog hears the couch squeak beneath the flying leap that Junkrat makes onto it and he brings his new gun with him, admiring the similarities and differences with his original one.  He sets it next to the couch before slumping down onto Junkrat, making him laugh and curse and smack him with both metal and mitten.

 

He chuckles and slips off of Junkrat, allowing him to wiggle out from under him and press against his side.  It was familiar, normal.

 

Roadhog watches the tv for a few minutes, thinking about how much the Christmas tradition had transformed their relationship and how they connected with each other.

 

He couldn't wait for midnight on New Year’s Eve.  It was time to introduce another tradition to Junkrat.  


End file.
